


Graybox

by MyrddinDerwydd



Series: Rhyver Shepard [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Graybox, Grief, Pre-Relationship, Shakarian - Freeform, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 22:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17569322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: Sheparddied,and the rest of the galaxy had to move on. Garrus and Shepard discuss some of what happened after the destruction of the Normandy SV1. Set early in Mass Effect 2, this story is still about a platonic relationship but for a pair who are already very close physically and emotionally after Mass Effect 1.Note:Based on the portrayal of grayboxes in the loyalty quest for Kasumi, they initially seemed to be small portable objects capable of storing audiovisual information from memories, as well as data. However, the wiki (and buried info at the Shadowbroker's in game) indicates that the device we see is used to access a smaller device surgically implanted in someone's brain. The sentiment still works with that version even if the details wouldn't. If you prefer the canon version, just consider my "graybox" a passcode-locked personal memento or journal.





	Graybox

If he could just increase the firing pin heat distribution efficiency by 0.1% more, he’d let it go for now. Every physical piece of the main battery for the Normandy SR2 had felt his critical touch, and every line of alignment code had been re-calibrated at least twice in the two weeks he had been on board.

_Still not good enough,_ Garrus thought, and twitched his mandibles in irritation. He stiffened as pain flared at the back of his jaw. _Damn._ Dr. Chakwas assured him that the blast wounds were healing well underneath the patch covering the side of his head, but it ached, even after she refreshed the medi-gel each day. Most of the time he just ignored it. It was only right that he suffer after failing his team so badly.  

The door hissed quietly open behind him, and Shepard’s familiar pace brought her to his elbow. He dipped his head in a quick, simple greeting, “Shepard,” but he could never quite suppress the flare of contentment resonating through the subharmonics of his voice whenever they spoke.

“Hey, Garrus.” Her tone was warm, just short of professional as the battery door spun shut. Shepard had a voice that could carry steel across a battlefield, but he was one of the few who had heard her broken and lost. That was before... Back before he failed her too.

Some type of sandwich clinked down on his workstation and he suppressed at least half of the emotions he felt about Shepard bringing him food. He really shouldn’t eat in here, and they both knew it. Honestly, Mess Sergeant Gardner had only given him levo food once. He wasn’t even allergic - though his digestive system certainly hadn’t enjoyed the plateful of useless molecules - but she had protectively started bringing food on her regular trips to his corner of the ship. _Spirits, if only she knew just how much it means to me…_ Sharing food was a serious matter between turians, and only truly customary among family. He couldn’t assume she meant anything by it, of course.

Her datapad chimed. She tucked a stray strand of long brown hair back into the roll on top of her head and smoothly vaulted to the storage bulkhead to his right - her customary seat. Lines and images scrolled past at the edge of his view as he finished the firing pin calibrations.

He leaned his hip against the workstation and tore off a piece of the sandwich to eat. Shepard didn’t scowl at the screen as many humans did, but he could read the stress in her tight-lipped expression. She firmly swiped away a message into the ether, sent on its way, and looked up at him.

“Did you finally finish those calibrations?” Shepard smirked, and the mirth was easy to hear in her voice.

“For the moment.” He chuckled dryly and took another bite of sandwich. “It’s a thankless, never-ending job, and you know it.”

She gave him an odd look, meeting his eyes steadily. “Thank you, Garrus.”

“I didn’t mean it Shepard, it just came out.” He clamped his mandibles tight in embarrassment. Why was he complaining? He loved fiddling with the guns, constantly perfecting and adjusting their performance.

“You’ve been throwing everything into your work since we carried you out of Omega, Garrus. Take a break!” Shepard twisted to lean against the far wall, facing him. “Even I shut this thing off on occasion,” she waved the datapad back and forth, “just to sit and watch the stars go by. Everyone needs a bit of personal time, and you’re still healing too.”

He traced the glowing orange scars on her cheeks with his eyes, finishing his sandwich in silence.

“You died, Rhyver.” Grief laced his subharmonics, even standing across from her, knowing she was alive.

“Two years, and I was one of the few who even knew to mourn you because of political Alliance crap!” The words spilled out of him, finally loosed after being repressed beneath more recent trauma. “No rescue mission, no body to patch up, no damned armor to repair! You were just _gone!_ Officially ‘Missing in Action’, and not a thing I could do to help the one person--” he turned and paced stiffly in the small space. _The one person that mattered most,_ he thought. “The fact that I failed you tore at me every day.”

“Even Anderson gave up on you.” Garrus waved a hand angrily, glaring at her. Shepard had shifted forward, half off the bulkhead, one slim hand covering her mouth in distress. “He gave me your graybox, Rhyver.” Some remote part of his mind noted that he’d switched to her given name, and was nearly yelling, but that part didn’t seem to have any control over him right now. He _hurt_ , and no amount of joy at seeing her alive in his rifle scope on Omega would make the past two years disappear. “They found it floating in the wreckage at the battle site, unlike most of the ship. Alliance intel had their time with it and decided that it was all personal, nothing they cared about. They didn’t give a damn about _you_.”

“Anderson called me in. I was on the Citadel, failing to work my way into Spectre training without being part of any military or civilian force like C-Sec.” He stared out over the humming weapons systems, crossing his arms over his keel, the memory sharp. The old war captain had seemed saddened, but also frustrated, resigned to the hand that Shepard had inadvertently dealt him by supporting him as Councilor. “It was the first time I’d even seen a graybox, turians don’t use anything similar. Too personal, I suppose.” He shook his head, mandibles flicking. “Passed it to me over his desk in a storage box. Apparently he wasn’t supposed to do anything with it since you were MIA, but we had no sign of you for months. I asked why he didn’t send it to your relatives on Mindoir, or to Lieutenant Alenko, or… well, anyone else in the Alliance.”

Garrus turned to look over his shoulder at Shepard, eyes still hard with pain. She couldn’t hear the deeper ache resonating in his voice. He had lost one of his closest friends, and a mentor. “He just shook his head. ‘She would want you to have it, Vakarian. Trust me.’ ” He stared down at the battery control panel, caught in a moment of time. Anderson had meant well, it was just a turn of phrase. Trust just wasn’t something turians spoke of - it was understood. Implicit. Required. Openly telling someone you trusted them was a high honor, and not one he accorded _that_ particular human.  

Shepard leaned against the railing beside him, expression unreadable. “What did you think after you unlocked it?”

“I never did unlock it, Rhyver.” His laugh was bitter, and twisted his healing jaw. He twitched in pain, resolving to ask Mordin to look at it tomorrow. “I could never quite match the passcode, and it felt…” He hesitated, snapping open a small compartment on the side of his armor. “It just felt wrong to hack it open.” Garrus pulled out a small rectangular box a little wider than a heat sink from among the other items - a spare visor, emergency stim and rations, miniaturized repair kit. It felt decidedly odd to hand Shepard her own graybox.

“You never unlocked it, even after two years?” She sounded… amused? Confused? Hurt?

“Without the passcode, I didn’t deserve to open it,” he scoffed, mandibles flicking sharply in self-derision. “So I simply added it to my armor. It became part of my…” _part of my spirit,_ he thought. “...Part of you that was still with me, even if I didn’t have the details.”

Shepard drew in a deep, shaky breath beside him. “That means a lot, Vakarian.” She was quiet for a long moment, staring at the box. The access light flickered once as she said his name, then went dark. At some point she had shifted so her arm pressed against his, covered in newly crafted gray armor. His earlier anger was slowly draining away, the weight of carrying his loss lightened in the sharing.

“How much of the passcode did you figure out?” Shepard asked, slowly brushing her thumb across the gray metal.

“Anderson said it was simple. My own analysis confirmed it - the code is only spoken words, no location locks or biometric keys. It - the code - well, it includes your name. And mine.” He watched her intently, still unsure what all of this meant. She nodded. “I’ve tried any number of permutations, Rhyver. Simple ones, ‘Team Shepard and Vakarian.’ ” The light lit briefly. “Longer ones based on quotes from human history.” He shook his head. “I even tried uh, more intimate ones that seemed… unlikely?” Embarrassment flooded his voice and subharmonics, and she grinned. The quirk of her eyebrows seemed entertained, not offended, but the implied question hung between them, unanswered. Human faces were so expressive… he glanced back down at the box.

“Garrus, do you have family or friends that are such a strong part of your life that…” Shepard drew in a deep breath, but continued without hesitation. “That they ultimately define part of who you are? Someone you trust with more than just your life? Someone who you’ve saved each other time and again, and would never willingly leave behind?”

He nodded slowly, but didn’t speak. _You. I was a wreck when I lost you._

“What would you say about that person, something for a passcode. A statement that only someone who knew the two of you would ever figure out.” Shepard’s lips kept twitching in an expression that seemed like a suppressed, patient smile.

“That is not something a turian would usually discuss, Rhyver. Even when it’s just about trust. To speak of it openly is… very personal.” Shepard was nodding, holding his gaze, so he continued. “You would be making yourself vulnerable to them, by stating how deeply you place yourself in their control. It… is considered an honor.”

“Humans speak of trust more openly, probably because we’re…” she scrunched her face in an odd expression, “more chaotic than turians, on average.” She shrugged a little. “But the depth of feeling that I meant is different. I didn’t choose this password lightly, Garrus, and had just changed it a few weeks before I… it was after the battle on the Citadel.”

Shepard held her graybox toward him and he gripped it lightly. He met her gaze, brown eyes honest and strong.

“There’s no Shepard without Vakarian.”

The access light glowed steadily at her words, and the graybox chimed quietly in their hands.

“Name: Rhyver Tam Shepard. Species: Human, _Homo sapiens_ , Vanguard with L3-class biotics. Current Rank: Council Spectre and Commander of the SSV Normandy-” Shepard tapped the control pad with her thumb, interrupting her recorded self.

His mandibles had gone slack in shock at her words. The galaxy was a darker place without Shepard, but _he_ was the one she trusted so implicitly? He should have seen, ought to have recognized his own feelings reflected back at him… Now his heart ached that he had a chance to set everything to rights.

Shepard slipped the graybox out of his hand without breaking eye contact and tucked it carefully back into his armor. Her datapad chimed from where she’d left it on the bulkhead, breaking the silence. She gave him a quick, fierce smile and snapped the compartment shut, leaving no doubt that the graybox was still his. Shepard stepped away, the datapad brightening at her touch. She read it with a wry smile and signaled the door to open, meeting his eyes with a quiet, meaningful nod as she walked out.

“Rhyver?” Shepard glanced back from just beyond the doorway. “I’m always here if you need me.” Garrus’s voice rang with an entire chorus of emotions.

“I know.”

The door twisted shut between them, and he thought of the unlocked graybox resting beside his keelbone. He wasn’t sure how to interpret the look she had just given him, but he knew where the answer might be.


End file.
